


D, You're a Star

by ang3lba3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Fluff, Jock Dean, M/M, Punk Castiel, including more characters, more tags will be added as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3
Summary: Dean is a wrestler with a crush on the scruffy and unattainable Castiel, who he's certain doesn't even know he exists.That changes.DISCONTINUED.





	1. August and September

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at [this gorgeous blog ;)](ang3lba3.tumblr.com)

“Jo,” Dean hissed, peering out and around his locker door, tan fingertips pressed pale where they bit into the metal. “Jo, are you listening to me?”

“Course,” Jo said. She didn’t look up from her phone, but Dean didn’t see to care or complain.

“I’m going to die,” he said, his voice that of a man who had accepted his grim fate and made his peace with the Creator, “Castiel is going to kill me.”

_ Of course,  _ Dean thought,  _ he’d have to know I existed first. _

In Dean’s opinion, Castiel always straddled—not that he thought about Cas straddling things a lot—the line between “who let him out of the house like that” and “throw me over a desk and take me now”, normally leaning heavily toward the latter. Today was no exception, from the baggy taupe sweater that slipped low to reveal sharp collarbones, the ripped black skinny jeans that showed distressingly enticing slashes of skin, the hightops, sharpie covered converse that marked him as a true Punk™.

Cas glanced in his direction just then, mouth thinned in concentration, blue eyes piercing, his older brother Balthazar cackling at his side. Dean snapped his head into his locker so fast he was pretty sure he sprained something. 

“Are they looking at me?” he asked Jo frantically, face two inches from his bagged lunch.

“What are you talking about?” Jo asked, finally looking up from her phone, frowning in confusion when she saw Dean hiding. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Christ, you’re no help Harvelle.” Dean considered climbing fully into the locker, squishing himself an impossible amount to fit, so he didn’t have to exist anymore.

But then, the five minute bell rang with his class seven minutes away, and he pulled out the book he needed. With slight panic, he headed towards biology, sprint walking in a way characteristic only to high school students and interns.

 

-

 

Dean recognized the back of Castiel’s head about the same time as he realized that the head was rushing along the sidewalk at the recognizable speed of “oh shit I’m going to be late”. Sitting comfortably inside his Impala and cruising with the leisure of someone who can move at over three miles an hour towards school, he considered offering Cas a ride.

He immediately discarded this as a ridiculous thought when he started having heart palpitations and his grip on the wheel became slippery with sweat.

Except— 

Cas was right there and he even had a piece of toast in his mouth, backpack slung over his shoulders and arms straight down as he ran like no one had ever taught him how to move his body. 

Mind made up, Dean hit the horn.

Cas didn’t flinch, and definitely not so much as glance at Dean.

Dean hit it again, this time rolling his window down and calling, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

His crush slowed to a jog, tried to talk and watched in a kind of detached horror as it caused the toast to fall out of his mouth. Crumbs spewed over his clothing and the down onto the sidewalk, leaving him standing there and staring at it in abject misery.

“I don’t have time to go shopping, Dean,” he said, sounding frustrated and one annoyance from dropping to his knees and pleading with the sky to know  _ why me? _ “I have a test first period that I am now going to be late for.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean like he was about to blame him for it. Dean was having enough trouble comprehending that Castiel  _ knew his name.  _

“You’ve never seen Mean Girls?” Dean asked as he recovered. There was his own degree in abject horror in the statement, and with anyone else he would have found it a complete turnoff. With Cas, while he certainly knew that it was a deficiency that must be rectified immediately, he found it adorable. Then he glanced at the clock and realized that even with a car they’d have to hurry if they wanted to get to school on time. 

“I’m offering you a ride,” he finished, waving off his other statement.

Cas’ face brightened considerably, looking at Dean with far more admiration than was perhaps appropriate for the situation. He reached to open the passenger door and there was a moment of slight betrayal in his eyes when it was locked, before Dean realized and hit the button. However, he was shortly inside, and Dean realized that they had a solid six to eight minutes of driving before they would be at school. 

He panicked, and for once couldn’t think of anything to say. Normally when he was nervous his mouth would run by itself; it would leave widows, orphans, destroyed farmsteads and mutilated livestock in its wake. It was just his luck that now, of all times, he could barely so much as breathe.

“So,” he started awkwardly, just as Castiel breathed in like he was about to say something. “Oh, uh—you first.”

There was this awkward silence then.

“I forgot what I was about to say,” Cas finally admitted, voice its usual unbearable sexy rumble. When Dean glanced at him his cheeks were a little red, but that could have easily been the rose colored lenses Dean was seeing through. 

He looked to the clock before his glance to Cas could reach creepy levels of intensity and length, just to find that there were only four minutes left.

Fuck, they were going to run out of time, and he hadn’t  _ said anything. _

“Did you see that meme?” he got out at last. 

What the fuck.

What the shit kind of vague bullshit was  _ that? _

“The . . . fish one?” Cas asked hesitantly.

Dean had never in his life heard of a fish meme.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he agreed. 

The rest of the ride passed in a silence Dean wasn’t sure he was grateful for. It was charged with words that neither of them said, and Dean’s desperate desire to never be anywhere else, and especially to never be trapped in this situation again. When they pulled into the parking lot, Dean took his time choosing a space. 

He cringed his mouth open to say, finally, “well, here we are.”

Cas nodded briskly, reached a hand up to grip the door handle.

“I’m part of a band,” Cas said. “The Garrison.”

Dean knew this. Dean knew most things about Cas.

“We’re playing on Saturday, at Perdition, you know, the coffee house. It has open mic every other week,” he continued. “At five.”

He stopped, didn’t say anything else. Dean waited, feeling like this was an invitation, but not sure if he was prepared for it to be one.

“It would be . . . nice. If you came.”

Cas opened his door, and was jogging through the parking lot to his class before Dean could think of an answer.

Was that an advertisement, or a date? What did he mean, ‘it would be nice’? Nice to have someone show up? Nice to see Dean?

He couldn’t wait for Saturday and, stumbling out of his car in a slight daze, he dreaded it with all his being.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late! Some unfortunate events happened in my personal life. But it's here now <3 I will try my best to update again this month.

The coffeehouse was everything that Dean would normally hate, and thus hated even more with his is-this-a-date nerves  Full of hipsters, with obnoxiously thick glasses and beards that got covered in the foam of their lattes, and what he thought were entirely too many bow ties. 

Castiel was helping his siblings set up on the stage, and his eyes found Dean's like there was a homing beacon embedded in his optic nerve, and the receiver was within Cas'. 

For all the intense eye contact, there wasn't an awful lot of waving going on for the first fifteen seconds before it occurred to Dean to raise his hand in a half assed sort of wiggle that he was immediately embarrassed by. In turn, Cas' fingers gestured to him—but not the way his own had, instead curling in a clear invitation to come closer. 

Dean set his teeth, squared his shoulders, and did, with the feeling of a man marching towards his inevitable self-humiliation. 

Before he could make it there, however, Balthazar was tapping Cas' shoulder and then looking pointedly to how the rest of the band had gotten set up while he was distracted. Cas frowned in slight confusion, and Balthazar's lips moved with a clarification that Dean couldn't hear but that made Cas wince in just a hint of a sheepish manner. He took his place before the mic, and formed a face that vaguely resembled regret but mostly someone beginning to go into shock as apology to Dean. 

Dean slumped in relief, or disappointment, which he wasn't sure, and instead nabbed a seat far enough from the stage that it wouldn't be quite so obvious the only person he was looking at was Cas but close enough that he could make out the tired bags under Cas' eyes. 

It helped that he had finally gotten contacts last month. 

The first chords were punk rock, or alternative, or whatever bullshit that Dean's musical experience wasn't broad enough to recognize easily.

Cas' voice spoke into the mic almost like he was clearing his throat, a raspy  _ one, two, _ that sent chills down Dean's spine and an uncomfortable tug behind his belly button. 

Castiel sang with his eyes closed, or his already small eyes squinted enough that it wasn't possible to see that they were open. It was hard to pay attention to the words at first, too lost in the sound of it to pay attention to what it was about, but Dean came back to himself at the word car.

_ "-car with a girl, promise me she's not your world," _ Cas sang, longing and desperate in the way that only unrequited love was. _ "Cause Andy, you're a star!" _

"Who the fuck is Andy," Dean found himself saying, out loud, at a volume that couldn't be heard by the boy singing his heart out but was clearly heard by the girls at the table next to him that shushed him harshly.

The rest of the song went on in that manner, heartbreakingly wistful and impressing on Dean the need to curl up and die for ever thinking this was a date at the same time as he wanted to find Andy and murder him for putting Cas through this. Didn't Andy know what he had? Was the most perfect teenage boy on earth not good enough for him? 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel panted as the set wrapped, feeling more out of breath than he felt was called for. Part of it was the exertion, most of it was that the entire time he knew Dean’s eyes were on him. 

 

It was burning, engulfing, to know that he was listening to Cas, and he'd sung like he never had before. Starting off with the song that he'd written specifically for him? Risky, especially in the sense of whether or not he was going to throw up over the microphone. 

 

But he didn't, and he didn't look at him, let his eyes close and focus solely on the music and the longing, and when he opened them he was way too close. 

 

He stumbled backwards, almost hit Balthazar in his confusion. He made a startled, British noise.

 

"Hello," he said, recovering, flinching the muscles of his lips upwards nervously instead of down as they wanted to go. They didn't go very far, but he appreciated their effort in a face not so used to moving from the carved-of-stone expression. 

 

"Hey," Dean said, kind of angrily, kind of shyly, in a weird combination that made him blink inquisitively and the forced smile drop. 

 

"Did you—" Cas couldn't just straight up ask if he liked the show, that was a verbal politeness trap that would lead to a fakely enthusiastic answer. He cleared his throat and said nothing.

 

"Your show was great," he said, and seemed to mean it. His voice was a little caustic when he added, "that Andy dude he's uh... he must be somethin'."

 

His eyes widened, his cheeks blushed, but he managed to keep the rest of his face under control. 

 

"He really is." he scratched behind an ear and hoped that he didn't look like he had lice.

 

The song was so transparently about Dean, and he . . . he must have figured it out.

 

He didn't seem too happy with the knowledge. 

 

"So he... you have a lot of classes together or—do I know him?" Dean asked, trying not to look intensely interested and failing.

 

Oh. He—he didn't know it was him? But then. 

 

Was . . . no, he couldn't be . . .

 

"Sounds like someone's jealous," Balthazar said in a sing songy voice. "Hear that baby brother? Our Deanie darling's got a crush." 

 

"Fuck off," Anna hissed, and Cas turned his head just enough to see her smack him in the shoulder with her drumsticks. "Help me pack up, you waste of space."

 

Castiel turned his head in time to see Dean trying and failing to cover a blush, fists tightening threateningly in Balthazar's direction. Heading it off quickly, Cas said, "Coffee."

 

Well, maybe that was heading it off too quickly, if the blank expression in Dean's eyes was any indication. However, his fists did relax, so there was that going for them. 

 

"Let's get some," Cas clarified, shifting nervously just the littlest bit. 

  
Dean's ears seemed to glow red under the soft lighting of Perdition, and he nodded mutely, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck. 

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at [this gorgeous blog ;)](ang3lba3.tumblr.com)


End file.
